Elven Arrival
by MiathiBlue
Summary: Companion piece to The Political Blight. Written as a bit of an experiment in second-person. Please R&R!


You weren't sure what to expect when you arrived at Highever. Maybe lords and their ladies walking with sweeping robes, noses turned up like they did in Denerim. Lots of flowers and gardens, maybe with some music. What you didn't expect was men in noble clothing splashed with mud laughing with the knights. There were dogs chasing each other through the courtyards, snaking between the feet of boys who trained with the sword. You certainly didn't expect to see the young Cousland girl to be among the boys, her brother showing her to grip a dagger properly.

You clutched the sides of your tattered cloak, fingers smoothing over the edges of several holes. The woman who drove cart stopped in the middles of the courtyard and grabbed your arm roughly, jerking you down off the cart.

"Come on, you elven filth," she snarled pulling you along towards the hall doors. You stumble along behind her, half walking, half dragged. You sweep your eyes across the courtyard again, nervousness and fear churning in your stomach. Your eyes drifted back to the children practising their swordplay, to see the young Cousland daughter staring after you with stormy grey eyes. She was frowning, but when your gaze met hers, she waved to you, You attempt to bow, but the ladies grip on your collar twists you off balance. She snarls down at you and cuffs you across the face. You whimper as you feel your lip split, the latest wound given to you by this woman.

"Hey!" A voice, clear as a bell, cut through the noise of the courtyard. Several voices quietened, until only the animal's noise remained, echoing through the stone courtyard. "What do you think you're doing?"

You cover your face, arms spread upwards to protect yourself. You quiver, but the only movement is several footsteps moving towards you. A hand grips your upper arm, but this hand is gentle and you allow it to guide you to your feet.

"Here, elf." This new voice is kind, so you peep outwards from between your arms. You find yourself looking into the brown eyes of Fergus Cousland, heir to the Teyrn. You inhale sharply, and scramble to curtsey, hands grasping the skirt of your dress.

"Don't." Fergus grasps your wrists and pulls back the sleeves of your dress, revealing a motley collection of bruises and scars. He lifts his gaze over your shoulder to nod behind you. You twist and watch as the woman was dragged away, curses spitting from her mouth.

"Mother, hurry," the younger Cousland ran towards you, dragging a woman along behind her. "It's _urgent." _

"Valkyrie!" The Teyrna hurried along behind her daughter. "Is this really necess- Oh," The woman hurries toward you, kneeling next to her son, skirts fanning out around her. You recognize her as Eleanor Cousland, the woman who had picked you. "What happened, my dear?"

Your eyes open wide as you realise the Teyrna is looking at you expectantly. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You lick your lips, moistening your dry mouth before trying again. "I-I was b-brought here f-from De-Denerim…"

"Of course," The woman bobs her head. "You're the young elf that was supposed to arrive today."

"What? Is this my maid?" The Cousland daughter sticks her head over her brother's shoulder, staring at you with renewed interest. You remember your manners and curtsey properly this time, staring at the ground.

"Stop it." The girl pulls you upright again. "If you're doing that all the time you'll never get anything done. Besides, you're injured and Mama always says not to do things when you're hurt, to stay still and rest."

You have to smile at the conviction on the young girls face. Now that's she's standing in front of you, you realise just how young she is. There's mud splashed on her face, and her black hair is falling neatly around her shoulders, despite the fact she was just using a dagger and running around through the dirt. You rummage through your memory for your age, before you realise she must be young- six, you think you were told. She looks sharp for her age.

"That's right Valkyrie." The Teyrna smiled down at her daughter, who beamed back. "Now come on, my dear. Do you have your papers with you? Your identification papers?"

You fumble at your bag, a worn linen affair that hangs loosely at your side with what little you took from home. You pull out some neatly folded paper, and hand it to the Teyrna. She cracks the seal on it and leads you around the hall. The girl-Valkyrie- threads her hand into yours and skips along beside you. You stiffen, but she seems oblivious to this, so you relax slowly, keeping one eye on your new mistress.

"Fergus, could you get your father please?" The Teyrna asks distractedly. "We'll meet him in the bedchambers. Now, Ebony," You fidget with the edges of your cloak, smoothing over the holes. "We'll show you to Valkyrie's bedchambers, and your own." She makes a left then an immediate right. You make sure to memorise your route, noting down doorways and the rooms beyond. The Teyrna makes one more left turn, then is sweeping up a ramp to push open some oaken doors. As she enters, she calls out an order, moving around the servants than are cleaning the floors. She beckons to you both "In here, children."

She holds open a door for you both, as Valkyrie pulls you inside. You top just inside the doorway, eyes wandering over the sparse, but comfortable room. There's a plain bed, but as you press your fingers into it, it feels soft. There's a dresser, and a small mirror attached to the wall, a chest, and a window. You move to the window. It's not much of a view, but there's breeze flowing inwards and you can smell roses.

"Thank you," You turn to find the Teyrna accepting a bowl of warm water and placing it on the dresser. The elven servant hands Valkyrie some cloth, before bowing out. You watch the woman leave, envying her clean clothes and neat hair. "Come. Let us see to these wounds."

You carefully untie your cloak, folding it neatly and placing it beside the bowl on the dresser. You place your bag on the chest, then turn to look at the Cousland's.

Valkyrie's eyes were wide, and her hands were over her mouth. Eleanor's lips were compressed into a tight line, as she gently turned you around gain. You close your eyes. You can practically _feel _the Teyrna's eyes tracing the ship marks in your skin, and the ragged rips the leather had done to your dress. When she turns you around again, she has tears in her eyes.

"I'm terribly sorry. I didn't know this would happen to you. That woman will have justice, dear." For a moment, the woman's eyes hardened, then she smiles at you. For the first time in weeks, since you were left with that horrid woman, you feel yourself relax.

"Eleanor?" The door opens again and a distinguished man with greying hair walked in. "Fergus said-Sweet Andraste!" he breathed.

"Your Grace." You murmur, dropping into yet another curtsey. You feel slightly overwhelmed with so much attention from so many well know nobles.

"I told you already, stop it." Valkyrie mutters. Teyrna Eleanor ushers you over to the bed, where she dips the cloth into the water and begins to gently wash your back through the tattered dress.

"Bryce, dear, could you please visit the woman who escorted Ebony," her voice hard. "Take Fergus, this is important for him to witness. Valkyrie, could you get out one of those new dresses from the wardrobe please."

A hand rests on your shoulder, and you look up into the Teyrn's warm grey eyes. He smiles at you're for a moment, then he's gone, the door sliding closed with a click. Eleanor sponges your back carefully, murmuring softly to you. Valkyrie dumps a pile of green fabric on the bed, then wriggles herself to sit on front of you, holding your hands and smiling. Her black fringe falls over her eyes, but she continues to smile at you as though you're her new best friend.

And you suppose, in a strange mistress-servant way, you are.


End file.
